I pulled the heat from my core and poured it through my limbs. “Stop.”
Something zinged, then smacked me. I froze, unable to breathe. The fight raged on beyond the gate. Donovan and the terrifying man smashed into each other—whirling, striking, parrying. Nate roared a challenge, his hands sparking blue, and threw bright flashes into the swarm of banwyn, scattering them like cockroaches. But there were more. More and more…
The huge, armored man whirled his sword in a circle, stepped one foot forward and thrust; Donovan dodged it by a hair. The last-minute change of direction made him stumble back.
The man let out a cold laugh. It echoed within hishelmet. “Your skills are substandard, Heir. Your brother would be ashamed of such a poor showing.”
“Then that fault lies with you, Agarthon,” Donovan spat out icily. “Since it was you who taught me to fight.” He spun away, moving like water, and slashed out, ducked, and hammered an elbow into the back of the man’s knee, dropping him. “You were the one who abandoned my training. You were the one who listened to the poison my brother dripped in your ears. He persuaded you to stop teaching me because I’d be too tied up in bureaucracy to go into battle myself, so there was no point. He manipulated you into stopping my training, so that he would be the better fighter. And you fell for his lies.”
Holy smokes. The armored man was Donovan’s old teacher. Obviously Connor’s, too. So, this was one of the Devourer’s assassins.
“He is the rightful King,” the man said coldly. “You are the pretender. He made me see the truth. He was born to rule.”
“I care not for the crown,” Donovan said, breathing deeply, massive chest heaving. “If my brother wanted it, he could have it—ifhe would shoulder the mantle of responsibility. But he will not. I care for the safety and prosperity of my people; he only wants to dominate them.”
I unfroze and heaved in a breath, sucking the air into my lungs desperately. Goddamnit, I’d tried to use my siren power, and it had obviously backfired against the ward. Donovan and his old teacher were fighting again. Swords flashed, and punches connected with sickening thuds. A wave of exhaustion crashed into me, almost knocking me off my feet.
The banwyn were still swarming. More poured into the dark street, their little feet pattering on the pavement like a million cockroaches. A thick circle of them surrounded Erykand Nate, darting in, biting the air, retreating. Cress was moving so fast I could barely see her.
There were too many. I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t help them from inside the ward. I had to get out there.
I held my breath and stepped through the ward to the other side.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The sound of battle grew louder outside the gates, as if I’d just removed earplugs from my ears. Donovan let out a grunt and fell to one knee. The assassin Agarthon lifted his sword, ready to strike him, but Donovan sprang back effortlessly, rolling away. Agarthon moved with him, swinging with vicious force.
I had to stop him. Heat pooled in my belly. I stoked it, fanning the flames, and the fire grew. With enormous effort, I focused, and released it, letting it spill out to my limbs, my hands, down my legs, up and up into my chest. I took two steps forward, fixed the armored man in my sights and focused the power in my throat. “Stop.”
The sword stopped an inch before Donovan’s neck. Agarthon’s hands shook. Donovan whirled away. “Chosen! No! Get back!” On the backswing, he struck at the assassin’s armor with the pommel, throwing him back.
He hit the pavement with a clang. Donovan wasted no time, ripping his sword out of his grasp. Holding a sword in each hand now, Donovan kicked off Agarthon’s helmet roughly. “Get back behind the ward, now!”
I caught a glimpse of the assassin’s face and saw onlyscarred, pitted, shining white skin. His eyes were hooded pits, his mouth a lipless slash.Oh shit.
A pack of banwyn broke away from the circles around Eryk and Nate, and scampered towards me, eyes wide open, sharp teeth bared, their little feet making that awful cockroach noise. A little banwyn, her hair in pigtails, ran the fastest, leading the pack. She darted towards me, gnashing her sharp teeth.
Panic overwhelmed me. Without thinking, I shoved my arms out in front of me as if I was trying to stop the swarm with my bare hands. The heat surged.
Eeeeeeeeee.
The banwyn launched into the air, flipping backwards head over heels as if she’d been tossed carelessly by a giant, letting out a high-pitched shriek as she sailed into the distance, past the massive cedars, over the row of houses opposite me, disappearing into the next street over.
Whoa.
Three more banwyn scuttled towards me. I pushed again, letting the warmth surge out my palms. Two of them suddenly jerked high into the air, spinning wildly like rogue tennis balls, disappearing into the darkness of the houses beyond the street.
The other one exploded. A dark-oily sludge popped where the banwyn had been, splashing on the pavement.
Oops.
The assassin—unfrozen now, swordless, helmetless, and back on his feet—bellowed an order in a thick oily foreign tongue. The banwyn kept coming. A half-dozen broke away from Cress and charged me. I kicked off my stilettos and moved into my tennis stance, bouncing lightly on my feet, and smacked at them frantically as if they were balls, sending them all flying back over the houses on the right. One, two, three, one dozen, two dozen… They all sailed into the air, until the swarm thinned, and I could see the others again.
They had rallied. Eryk’s fireballs gathered pace, and Nate threw more magic spells, popping the banwyn into oily sludge where they stood.
“Don’t toss them, you fool,” Cress growled at me, slamming her black dagger into another banwyn’s chest, then ducking to slash at a little one, crawling like a cockroach near her feet. “Kill them! You have to destroy them, or they will come back!”
